


where the sea pours into the stars

by everythingFangirl



Series: so call me when the world looks bleak (dream smp oneshots) [8]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-War, Respawn Mechanics, Temporary Character Death, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27672820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingFangirl/pseuds/everythingFangirl
Summary: But in spite of how you feel, it's not the end of the worldSome say these things are for the bestFor better or worseTwo old friends have a conversation, at the end of everything.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), nope, they are friends that is all
Series: so call me when the world looks bleak (dream smp oneshots) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966438
Comments: 24
Kudos: 146
Collections: Dream SMP Connected Storylines





	where the sea pours into the stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternative interpretation of what happens to Wilbur and Schlatt after the events of November 16th. I started drafting this before Ghostbur or the three lives theory became canon, so this doesn’t take those concepts into account, but rather it’s a canon-divergent interpretation of death/respawn/afterlife mechanics on the Dream SMP.
> 
> Title and description quotes are from the song Wings by Eden.
> 
> (Also, this is my longest ever oneshot, which I'm really proud of!)

Wilbur awakens in L’Manberg and smiles. 

He’s hardly gotten a moment’s peace, recently, but it’s quiet today. No Tommy around, yelling his head off, no Tubbo trailing behind him, no Dream standing menacingly in the distance, nobody at all. Just him, and the wind, and the gentle burbling of the river. 

He runs his fingers through the grass underneath his palms (evidently, he’s found himself lying down), digs his nails into the soil below it. Beautiful, fertile soil, perfect for growing a new nation for his people, for his son. The sheer amount of potential in this land might be enough to bring him to tears, this could be safety, this could be peace, this could be home -

“WILBUR SOOT!”

He claps his hands over his ears as the shout reverberates across the clearing, so impossibly loud, so -

So fucking familiar -

And there he is. Leaning against the van as if nothing ever happened. Immaculate suit, spiralling horns.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here so soon!”

Schlatt. He’s here. Somehow. 

And something feels horribly _wrong_ about it, and somehow Wilbur doesn’t know, there’s an awful gap somewhere in his memory and all he knows is that Schlatt is absolutely not supposed to be here, but the _why_ doesn’t matter -

Before he can even register it, he’s lunging for Schlatt, fists pummeling against his chest, slamming him against the side of the van with a scream of “You bastard! Why aren’t you fucking dead? You took everything from me, you, you -”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s over, buddy! The war’s done! It’s done.” 

_How is he so fucking calm?_ “It’s not fucking done, you’re supposed to be dead, how the fuck are you still alive -”

“I’m not! Wilbur, I’m not. Take a look around.”

What?

What could there possibly be to see? Wilbur glances to one side, hands still clutching Schlatt’s lapels. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, nothing but the forest and the river and the van -

The van. 

The van that’s been destroyed a thousand times over.

The forest, the river, where there should be nothing but the remnants of a dozen other builds and a million painful memories. 

“...What?”

“Good. You’re starting to remember.”

Wilbur snaps back to face Schlatt and his smug smile. “What the fuck is going on here? Where are we?”

The bastard doesn’t even have the decency to look threatened. “What’s the last thing you remember, Wil?”

“The last thing I remember? You took my fucking country and we fought to get it back -”

And -

And they won -

And Schlatt -

And Tommy and Techno and _Phil_ and -

And the button -

“Oh, fuck.”

He stumbles backwards, Schlatt slipping from his grip as a wave of vertigo overtakes him and the world is spinning and there’s a ringing in his ears and when he looks down the grass is gone and there’s nothing but exposed stone and -

They’re standing in a crater. They’re standing in a crater, and chunks of blackstone and dropped items are scattered at his feet and water flows down the sides and -

L’Manberg is gone.

_L’Manberg is gone._

And Schlatt is still just standing there. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Wilbur struggles out, voice trembling, raising a shaking hand to his temple where a headache starts to burn. 

“You’re almost there, Wil. How did it end?”

How did it end? What kind of question is that? It ended with an explosion and his own destiny finally catching up to him and the fall of a nation and -

And Phil -

Oh, Prime, Phil -

_”You’re my son!”_

Pain flares through Wilbur’s entire body, and he drops to one knee, clutching at his side. It hurts, oh, Prime, it hurts, like a sword stabbed straight through his gut - but there’s no wound, no blood, nothing, when he runs his hand across the patch of skin there’s nothing but a scar -

The pain disappears just as quickly as it came, the ghost of Phil’s last embrace fading with it. Wilbur’s left gasping for air, tears pricking at his eyes. 

Oh. 

He remembers, now.

“So,” he gets out through heaving breaths, “what is this, the afterlife?”

“Something like that,” Schlatt answers all too casually as Wilbur struggles back to his feet. The world is stabilizing again, even though his headache isn’t gone. “Not exactly what you might expect, though. Think of it as a kind of,” Schlatt gestures vaguely, “intermediary stage.”

“I see.” He really doesn’t, and Schlatt must hear it in his tone, because he chuckles. 

“That’s fine. I was confused too, the first time I ended up here.”

“...You’ve been here before?”

“Once.”

Schlatt doesn’t elaborate. Something in his tone makes Wilbur not question him further.

“But, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Schlatt continues after a moment, back to his cheerful self. “You remembered a lot faster than I did, already. You’ll get the hang of it.”

How is he so casual about this? _Why_ is he so casual? Doesn’t he - doesn’t he remember?

“You know this doesn’t change anything, right, Schlatt? You can’t just stand here and talk to me like nothing ever happened, after everything you did.”

“The war’s over, Wilbur. There’s nothing left to fight about.” When Schlatt meets his eyes, he just looks… tired. But there’s no pity left in Wilbur for someone like Schlatt. 

“What, besides the fact that you ruined everything? You took my country, you took my family, you’re the reason I had to do what I did! You fucked everything up, Jschlatt! You’re the one that ruined everything for me -”

And suddenly, there’s a fire to Schlatt’s voice. “If anything, I should be the one angry at you!” 

“What the fuck do you mean? You were a dictator -”

“I was lawfully elected!” 

Wilbur begins to throw a retort, but Schlatt cuts him off, his voice suddenly growing louder and it’s echoing around them and - 

“I was a lawfully, democratically elected leader, Wilbur, and I know neither you nor Tubbo can say the same. Hey, in fact, I think I was the only elected leader in the history of that particular world! But then everyone who was on my side started fucking plotting against me and abandoned me one by one. Tubbo, fuck, I thought I could trust Tubbo, I really did! But turns out he was fucking spying on me the entire time, I shouldn’t have even been surprised. Then my fat ass of a vice president turned his back on me, and even Fundy, the last person I thought I had on my side, turned out to be working as a double agent the entire fucking time. And all of that for you, Wilbur. All of that for you. So, believe me, I know exactly what it feels like to lose everything.”

“You can’t just-”

“What did you ever do for Manberg besides leading it into war after war? I tried to make genuine changes, I opened borders, I improved relations with our neighboring countries, and you - you led a fucking hostile coup against us! You tried to overthrow me, you turned all my people against me! You’re the one who took everything from _me_ , Wilbur.”

Wilbur stammers to find a retort. “W-well, you can’t say you didn’t do exactly the same thing-”

“Oh, I absolutely fucking can! Who was the one who tried to rig an election to try to gain control of their country? Who was the one who filled up that country with TNT and planned to blow it all up if things didn’t go exactly his way? Who was the one who - may I remind you, you won! You won, everything was fine for you, you could have just sat back and enjoyed your happy ending - but no! Tell me, _who was the one who pressed that fucking button?_ ”

And -

And there’s nothing Wilbur can say to that.

Nothing at all.

“...I did.”

“That’s right. You did. I wasn’t the one who took everything from you, Wilbur. You were.”

And he’s right. He’s right, isn’t he? Isn’t that what Wilbur had been saying all this time, now? Maybe Schlatt was a villain to some, but... It’s been Wilbur, always, who brought things crashing down around them. 

_”You know, if I die, this country goes down with me.”_

And he’d been right.

“Bastard,” Wilbur spits, but it’s half-hearted.

Schlatt just scoffs. “I guess we both are. I guess we both paid the price for it.”

“...I guess we did.”

_(Let me tell you a story about a man named Theseus. His country was in danger, he sent himself forward into enemy lines. He slayed the minotaur and saved his city. Do you know what they did to him?_

_They exiled him._

_He died in disgrace, despised by his people.)_

Silence settles over them. The only sound is the water, still steadily trickling down from the remnants of the river into the bottom of the crater they’re standing in. It’s already reaching Wilbur’s shoes. 

Schlatt sighs, heavily. When Wilbur looks up to meet his eyes, he sees nothing but grief, and loss, and bone-deep exhaustion. Any hint of the anger in his voice is gone.

“I’m so fucking tired, Wil.”

There it is again. The nickname. The one he hasn’t used since… since a lifetime ago. 

And Wilbur feels the same grief, the same loss, the same exhaustion, weighing down on his own shoulders. 

All of his rage has run out. All of the fires have burnt out, and there’s nothing left but ashes.

“Me too, J.”

And there’s nothing else left to be said.

At some point, they start to walk. Wilbur doesn’t know what spurs it on, but slowly, step by step, they begin to make their way up the sides of the still-smoking crater where L’Manberg used to stand -

Except, suddenly, it’s not a crater at all. The next moment, they’re climbing up the side of a mountain. The change had been just as sudden as when Wilbur’s L’Manberg had disappeared and the results of the carnage he’d caused had taken its place. When Wilbur glances down, a forest spreads out under them, but - it’s littered with sinkholes, and whole swaths of trees torn up by storms, and sections that have burnt away to nothing but ashes.

The hike up is long, and neither of them say a word. When they finally reach the top of the mountain, it drops down, down, down into the crater of what Wilbur realizes must be a volcano. Inactive, likely, but what it used to be is still clear. 

“What is this place?”

Schlatt winces, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Like I said. I’ve only been here once.”

That doesn’t explain as much as Schlatt thinks it does, but… Wilbur thinks he’s beginning to understand. When he’d seen L’Manberg, before - that had been his memory. How he’d remembered it, first, and then how he’d finally left it. Not the real place, but a fragment of how he knew it.

“This is a memory for you, isn’t it?” 

Schlatt’s staring out over the expanse of destroyed forest, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t answer. 

Wilbur keeps prodding, though. “You’ve been to this place before. Was this where you -”

“I’m not gonna talk about it, Wilbur.”

He doesn’t question further. 

They settle into an uncomfortable silence, nothing but the sound of the wind ringing in Wilbur’s ears. He stands by Schlatt, looking down at the remnants of whatever this world used to be, but - it’s not as lifeless as it initially seems. A pack of wolves roam through an untouched section of trees. Some sheep graze in a field next to a river crashing into a sunken pit. 

Even if none of this is real… this place is still healing, even after whatever - whoever - passed through here wreaked havoc upon the land. It’s recovering. Maybe in time, it’ll be able to thrive again.

Won’t it? 

“Do you… know what happened, back there, after I...”

Wilbur’s hesitant to break the silence, but Schlatt answers him with no judgement in his voice. “I do. Sometimes you stick around for a little. I saw everything.”

Wilbur’s almost afraid to ask. “Did you see - did anyone - who -”

“Everybody’s alright.” Wilbur can’t help the sigh of sheer relief that escapes his throat. “The country’s been blown to pieces and Techno’s poised to kill anyone who so much as attempts to set up another system of government, but everybody’s alive. Everyone made it out.” Schlatt chuckles morbidly. “No thanks to you.”

“Shut up,” Wilbur stabs back, but it’s half-hearted at best. Everyone made it out. His family’s still alive. He didn’t screw up _that_ , at least. And Phil’s there now, too, they’ll be alright, they should be alright -

 _They’ll be alright without him._ The thought flashes into his mind, and he knows instantly that it’s true. 

They’ll be alright without him. They’ll be better off without him.

Everyone’s better off without him. Including Schlatt.

Despite everything, Wilbur finds himself chuckling. “We really fucked each other over, didn’t we?”

Schlatt sighs. “Yeah, we -” He cuts himself off, and Wilbur can already see the spark flaring in his eyes, his mouth twisting into a smirk, before he starts to speak again. “N-no, nobody fucked me, Wilbur, you didn’t -”

“What do you mean? I’m just saying that we really screwed-”

“No! Stop! What is with you today, man? I -” A fit of laughter overtakes him before he can finish the sentence, and Wilbur dissolves into giggles right alongside him. 

It’s so easy.

It’s so easy to fall right back into their old bits, their old pattern of camaraderie, their old friendship. Because that’s what they’d had, wasn’t it? Friendship. There’s no use to pretend otherwise, not anymore, now that it’s all over. They were friends. 

Before everything fell apart so spectacularly. 

Absent-mindedly, Schlatt undoes his tie, casts it down the mountainside where it’s picked up by the wind. When Wilbur tears his eyes away from the piece of fluttering red fabric, he finds that Schlatt’s suit is gone entirely, replaced by a simple sky-blue sweater. Schlatt grins back at him, clean-shaven and guileless, looking about ten years and a thousand lifetimes younger than - than -

Wilbur does not want to think about the last time he saw him in Dream’s world. 

But he looks happier now. Maybe it’s something about this - this limbo - but he no longer looks like the man whose actions tore Wilbur’s world apart. 

He looks like someone he knew a lifetime ago.

Wilbur doesn’t know if he’s quite ready to grapple with the implications of that yet. So he turns away, and in an attempt to break the silence, asks “So what is it that we do here, exactly?”

“Right now? Not much, really. We’ll get a way out whevener the time is right, but for now…” Schlatt spreads his hands out, still grinning. “Whatever the hell we want to do.”

And he topples backwards into the volcano.

Wilbur scrambles to the edge after him, too shocked to even call out his name, and barely has time to consider whatever physics or rules are in place in this world before -

The ground crumbles under his feet, suddenly he’s weightless and his heart shoots into his throat because he’s falling he’s falling he barely even has time to scream -

He hits the water with a _crash._

Somehow, it doesn’t hurt. He’s left floating, weightless, disoriented. There’s water on every side of him, he doesn’t know what direction is up, can’t see the bottom. There’s only the ocean, everywhere, the deep blue stretching out endlessly, cradling him, crushing him -

And a hand grabs onto his arm. Someone’s dragging him up, someone’s saving him -

His head breaks the surface of his water and he gasps for air. Through his heaving breaths, he hears hoarse laughter, and the hand still clamped around his forearm is dragging him through the water towards - towards something. 

His feet meet dirt and he struggles to keep his footing, until he’s lying in a heap on the shore, still gasping for breath. It’s hard to tell, since he’s soaking wet, but something spatters against the back of his neck. It’s raining. 

Schlatt’s still laughing his head off, sprawled out on the dirt beside him, all signs of his fear of drowning or former ill health gone completely. When Wilbur finally manages to sputter “You’re a fucking asshole, Schlatt,” it only makes him laugh harder. But, strangely, Wilbur finds himself chuckling too. 

He finally raises his eyes, looking back out towards the ocean they emerged from. They’re on a tiny island of dirt, a single tree upon it, and -

There’s nothing else but the water. Stretching out as far as the eye can see, no other land in sight, nothing but endless blue depths visible underneath. 

He knows this place. Of course he knows this place. 

With a sigh, Wilbur flops onto his back, staring up at the gray clouds covering the sky. When he raises an arm to shield his eyes from the torrent, he notices his sleeve’s no longer brown; indeed, his filthy Pogtopian coat has been replaced by an all too familiar mustard yellow sweater.

He lowers his arm and closes his eyes, letting the rain wash over him. Schlatt’s laughter finally fades out next to him with a content sigh, and soon the only sound is the pouring of the rain. Somehow, even though Wilbur’s clothes are soaked through, he isn’t cold. For the first time he can remember, he isn’t cold. 

This is… no, it’s not peace, exactly. Maybe its twisted cousin. Two men broken beyond redemption laying in a cheap replica of their youth, haunted by actions they can’t undo and mistakes they can’t fix. But even in the middle of the memory of one of the most dreadful moments of his life, right now all Wilbur feels is the water on his face, the crashing of the waves just inches away, the steady breathing of the man next to him. He remembers the thrill of survival, the sheer relief of safety, the joy of camaraderie. 

How things used to be, and how far they’ve fallen.

“What happened to us, man?” Schlatt murmurs next to him.

Wilbur smiles to himself. “We got old.”

Schlatt chuckles at that. “I guess we did.” 

The boys who swam through this ocean, who scrambled to get away from burning lava, who dodged the sky itself collapsing around them, have been gone for a long, long time. All that remains of that time is the bitter memories, the water still splashing onto Wilbur’s cheeks, lapping against his boots.

Just for a final moment, he allows himself to sink into that memory. To feel like that boy again.

But, the rain’s stopping. Somehow, the crashing of the waves seems to be receding, getting further and further, quieter and quieter. Wilbur reaches out a hand to brush against the water, and his fingers meet nothing but sand.

Schlatt shifts beside him. When Wilbur opens his eyes, the clear sky is painted with the colors of the setting sun, and the other man is gone from beside him. Wilbur sits up and leans on an elbow, glances around to look for his friend. The scenery’s definitely changed again, and Schlatt’s just - just standing. A few metres away, with his back facing towards Wilbur.

“Schlatt?”

But his friend’s completely frozen, staring out towards the horizon in something like shock.

When he doesn’t respond, Wilbur takes a moment to look around for himself, getting back to his feet. Unlike every other location they’ve seen here, this place seems completely untouched. There’s green grass beneath his feet that fades into coarse sand, there’s wind rustling through the leaves of trees; a small lake lies on one side of the strip of land they’re standing on, while an ocean stretches out on the other. He can make out the silhouettes of icebergs in the distance. It looks like nobody’s set foot here in a long, long time. Maybe nobody’s ever set foot here at all. 

Or, at least, not yet. This is a memory, after all.

“What is this place?”

Again, Schlatt doesn’t answer. Wilbur turns back to him, only to -

To see that he’s crying. 

It’s not much, only a few tears in his eyes, but… the way that he’s looking out over the ocean over which the sun is setting, sentimental or… homesick. For Schlatt, it’s almost more genuine emotion than Wilbur’s ever seen.

“...Schlatt?”

He jolts as Wilbur says his name again, hurriedly running a hand across his eyes. “Hm? Yeah?”

“Do you know where we are?”

Schlatt turns to him, half-formed response on his lips, before realization flashes across his face as their eyes meet. “Oh, right, you wouldn’t recognize this place. Not like this, at least.”

“Wh - Schlatt, what are you talking about?”

He gives him a small, wistful smile. “I’ll show you.”

And suddenly they’re -

Oh. 

A city.

It spreads out before them, stone paths snaking through the towering and sprawling structures. The shadow of an enormous tree blocks out the setting sunlight. And in front of them -

A statue. A golden, glowing S.

As the realization settles in Wilbur’s mind, Schlatt chuckles. “Home, sweet home.”

“Home, sweet home,” Wilbur repeats, weakly. 

It’s been a long, long time.

He thought he’d never see this world again. Maybe, in a way, he won’t. Because this isn’t it, this isn’t the place he knew, only the one he remembers. And the most fundamental part of this world isn’t here. The streets are empty, the lights are off, and it’s quiet. Far, far too quiet. 

The people. 

SMPLive was always, _always_ about the people. 

And there’s nobody here.

Schlatt sighs with something almost resembling contentment. “We can take a look around, if you want. Revisit old places while we still have the chance. Relive the good ol’ days, you know?”

Wilbur knows his answer before Schlatt even finishes speaking. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

It wouldn’t be the same. 

It hurts too much.

He half expects Schlatt to object, but he doesn’t. He only nods, and looks at Wilbur with something like - no, it’s not pity. It’s understanding.

This is a pain that they share. In some ways, they’re still not so different after all.

In the melancholy silence, Schlatt suddenly chuckles. “Hey. Would you look at that.”

Wilbur turns to face him, only to see - well, he’s not exactly sure what he sees. Behind him, in the core of the great spawn tree, where he remembers the world’s central nether portal lay, there’s a door. Well, not a door, not really. Just a rectangle of blank, pure white, a hole cut into the fabric of reality itself. Wilbur doesn’t know what it is, but - some part of him knows exactly what it represents.

He exhales. “Is this the end, then?”

Schlatt turns back to face him with a small smile. “Not if you don’t want it to be.”

...Oh.

“Like I said, it’s only an intermediary stage. If you want to go back, or if you want to go somewhere else, then you can. But if you want it to be the end… it can be that, too.”

A choice. Wilbur’s being given a choice, here. To stay, or to move on, or… to let it all go. 

And -

And he doesn’t know what he’d choose. 

Instead, he looks back to Schlatt with a forced smile. “So what are you going to do?”

“Honestly, I think I’m done with that place. Might find a place to lay low for a while, maybe try something new, but… I’m not going back.” Schlatt chuckles to himself, a little sadly. “Not like anybody would want me there, anyway.” He grins back at Wilbur, sincerely this time, running a hand through his hair and placing a cap on his head. When Wilbur takes another look at him, he realizes that’s not the only thing that’s changed: the mutton chops are back in full force, and his sweater’s been replaced by a crewneck. He looks a little less like the Schlatt Wilbur remembers, now, and a little more like the Schlatt he knows. “You?”

He sighs, taking a moment to think. But the truth is... “I don’t know. It’s over, now, isn’t it? I don’t know if they’d want me back, either, even if I did want to go.”

“I think some of ‘em would. Tommy seemed to be determined to not give up on you, at least.” Schlatt stops, for a moment. When he speaks again, it’s uncharacteristically gentle. “Phil, too.”

Would they? Wilbur would like to believe it, but… he truly doesn’t know if he can. Not after everything he did.

Before Wilbur can respond, Schlatt scoffs to himself, almost sadly. “Must be nice to have someone who misses you.”

There’s no spite in his voice, no malice. Just the sadness of a man who - who’d been surrounded by enemies until his last moments, people he’d cared about and who he thought he could trust, people he’d alienated, who had come to despise him after everything he did. Even in his darkest moments, Wilbur had never been quite so alone. He doesn’t want to imagine how that must feel.

“I’m sure you still do,” he offers hesitantly. He’s really not sure why he says it, when Schlatt turns away with a disbelieving scoff, but… even if the attempt to comfort his friend is in vain… “Maybe you’re just not looking in the right place.”

And the moment he says it, it becomes true. 

Because Schlatt _had_ friends, didn’t he? Good friends, friends who wouldn’t abandon him over something as small as becoming a tyrannical dictator. He’d already gotten away with it once before, hadn’t he? Right here, in the world in the echo of which they’re standing right now. 

Friends who he could find again, if he wanted to.

And when Schlatt looks back at him, there’s genuine gratitude in his eyes.

The moment passes, though. Forcing cheer into his tone, Wilbur continues half-jokingly, “Well, either way, I can’t exactly just go back and say ‘hey, sorry for betraying you and blowing all of you up, but I’m back now, can I be part of your crumbling nation that I personally had a hand in destroying’, can I?”

“No, I guess you can’t.” After a moment of thought, Schlatt perks up, turning to Wilbur with a spark in his eyes. “You could take a break.”

“Hm?”

“Go somewhere else for a bit. Travel around, do something new. Wait for things to settle down, think it over, then… if you still want to go back, go back. They’ll either take you or they won’t. I guess you’ll just have to see.”

Could he? 

He can’t go back, not now. That much he doesn’t question. At least, so soon, he has a feeling he wouldn’t be welcome. But… he’s not ready for this to be final, either. He’s not ready for it to be the end.

This could be interesting. Fun, even. When was the last time he did anything for fun?

“...You’re right. Maybe I do need a break. It has been a while since I’ve done something different.”

Schlatt nods approvingly. “Where do you want to start?”

Wilbur exhales, wracking his brain for an answer. “I don’t know. I haven’t had to make that choice in a long time.”

The smirk on Schlatt’s face widens into a grin. A genuine one. “Oh, I might have a few ideas.”

It takes Schlatt reaching out his hand towards Wilbur for him to understand.

An offer. 

That’s what this is. An offer. To travel with him, to - to stick together. Like old times. 

Schlatt, his best friend and his worst enemy. They’d survived countless impossible situations together, saved each other’s lives countless times, and caused each other’s downfalls just as often. Maybe this was how this war was destined to end from the start, by them bringing each other’s mutual destruction just like they always have. But… Schlatt was right. The war’s over now. There’s nothing left to fight about. And maybe, just as they were always meant to be each other’s undoing… maybe they were always meant to find each other again.

And… this won’t just be going back to how things used to be. It can’t be. They’ve both changed far, far too much for that to be possible. 

But it’s starting over. It’s making something new. Whether he’ll be ready to go back at the end of it all, or not. 

So Wilbur smiles. And he takes Schlatt’s hand. 

“Lead the way then, J.”

Schlatt meets his eyes and smiles back. When they step across the threshold, they do it together. 

And around them, the world - the first world Wilbur had called home, the place he and Schlatt had found each other, the world he knows he’s truly seeing for the last time - fades to white.

There’s something new waiting for them on the other side.


End file.
